My "Winnie The Pooh" Improv Analogy...

At Fugue rehearsal today, I had this idea and I've been turning it over in my head, trying to polish it and make it a close analogy to what I believe. Maybe recording it here will help me complete that process.

If you were to ask me what a good improv scene was like, this is what I would tell you...

Imagine that you and your friend (your scene partner) are in a clearing (the moment before your scene begins), at the edge of a dense forest (the actual scene, itself).

The forest is old. Very old. And the there is an unimaginable number of trees in it. It goes on forever. And you know from personal experience and the words of others, that there are wonderful (and occasionally terrible) surprises in this forest. Treehouse villages. Stone carvings of giant men that talk. Singing mushrooms and toadstools. Riverside villages. Tall ships. Men Fishing by the riversides. Wonderful, amazing, incredible things that simply are not available to you, in your clearing. The forest is also so dense that you can't see into it more than a few feet.

You can bring a map with you, if you want. And you can even turn to your friend and say, "This is the route that I think we should take and this is the destination that we should head for", if you want to. And they may or may not agree to that. They may have their own route and destination in mind. One of you will have to give up on your plan and go with the other one or you'll both have to agree to ditch both plans and take a risk and enter the forest, completely fresh and without a plan. But because you're both well trained hikers and have been in other parts of this same forest many times before, entering it without a map or a planned route or a destination isn't as scary as it was, the first time that you entered the forest.

Either way, you and your friend agree to begin walking. To enter this forest together. This is, after all, the point of your being there, to enter the forest together.

Immediately, upon walking up to the forest, you notice that there are actually many, many paths that already weave through the forest. The paths are firmly in place by the footsteps of the many hikers who have came before you. And some of them have even left you path markers to help you avoid the bigger pitfalls and sinkholes. And you can choose to follow them, if you want to. Or you can go your own way. Just know that you won't get too far into the forest, without crossing a path that someone else has already crossed before. It's no big deal. Being first isn't nearly as important as moving forward. Even Lewis and Clarke ran into the Indians.

The first few steps that you and your friend take into this strange and wonderful new world are very, very important. On a very basic level, they determine the direction that you're going to head into. (Or at least, the direction that you're going to START walking in. You can change directions together later, if you want to.) One thing that you've heard before from other hikers is that it's important to head in a vaguely straight-forward direction. If you go in at a very steep angle, you'll walk for a long time and find that you've barely entered the forest at all, because you're not moving forward together. You're moving laterally. And that's no way to explore this particular forest. You have to go deeper, if you want to find something worth exploring.

So, the first few steps together are key. It's a good idea to talk to your friend and ask how they're doing. Because you want to make sure that you are both moving forward together. And that you've not left your friend behind. Or that you're lagging so far behind that they're way ahead of you. Or that you two didn't enter the forest together and immediately begin walking in opposite directions. That's the absolute worst. Losing your friend immediately. Because a walk is always more pleasant with a friend. Walking alone is "exercise" and nobody likes "exercise".

So, you enter the forest and you chat with your friend and maybe you begin to look at the tools that you've both brought into the forest on your own. You might have some swimsuits with you. Your friend might have a picnic basket packed. You might have a pair of spelunking helmets. Your friend might have a banjo and a harmonica. You didn't plan this trip ahead of time. You brought with you what you already had and by offering to share them with your friend, you two can get an idea of the things that you might enjoy doing together in the forest. In this case, looks like you might go swimming, enjoy a nice picnic, explore a cave and then jam some folk songs together. Which is a pretty eventful day.

Now, sure, you can ditch those everything you've got there and choose to go hang-gliding, or pan for gold or plant some seedlings, but all of those things require their own set of tools. Wouldn't it be easier for you both to go with the things that you're already prepared to do? I mean, have you ever tried to dig a tree-planting hole using a banjo? It takes forever. And it's not good for you or the banjo. Better to play sweet, sweet music together.

And hey, how nice is that you had no idea that you'd enjoy a swim, a picnic, an adventure and a song, before you ever entered the forest in the first place. If you'd planned out your trip in advance and ignored the swimming hole or the picnic grounds in favor of some other destination, you'd have missed out on these opportunities that you were already prepared to do. Therein lies the wisdom of enterng the forest without a plan and a destination.

After you've been going along for a while, you may find yourself walking on a pathway together. A path that you didn't pick initially, but that seems to be heading towards your new destination. It's much easier to walk on a path, than to hack your way through underbrush when there's a perfectly natural path already there and waiting for you. Don't mistake painful physical exertion for hard work. You don't need to clear all of that underbrush. It's not admirable to chart a new course, wasting time and energy, when an alternative is already there. In fact, I've seen some hikers get so bogged down in forcing their way through a particularly dense bit of growth, that they seem to stop moving forward at all. When that happens, I think to myself, "They must be new at this. To waste so much energy, for so little return."

One thing you should know about paths is that they have branches to them. Alternative routes that criss-cross over them. They're rarely a straight run from Point A to Point B. If you want to, you and your friend can take a fork and branch off to the left. And twenty yards down the path way, you can find another fork that branches right back to the path that you originally left. Some people will tell you to avoid these branches. That they waste your time and make you go out of your way for nothing. But I've walked down branches before and one time I found a little cottage there that I didn't know was there, and met a very nice little couple, who gave me some tea and cookies and told me a funny little story, before I walked on. I eventually crossed back to my original path and maybe did lose some time, but I got a full belly and a funny story for my time. Sometimes there are hidden wonders down the side-branches. You never know, unless you look.

Of course, you could just as easily get lost entirely and never make it to your destination at all and die in the forest, hungry and starving and eaten by a bear.

So, consider your branches as wisely as you can, before taking them. And if it looks like they aren't getting you anywhere, head right back to your first path. It's still there, waiting for you.

While you're walking to your destination, take some time to enjoy all of the wonderful details of your hike through the woods. Listen, actually listen, to the birds singing in the trees. Stop and feel a ray of sunbeam, breaking through the tree canopy, as it warms your skin. When you come to a cool stream of fresh clean water, stop and sip from it and feel how electrically real the water is. These experiences, these little moments, are what makes the trip worth taking. In many ways, they're more important than the final destination and what will or will not happen there. Absorbing the details of this experience, are secretly the best part of walking with a friend, and being alive. So savor them. They're the bits you'll talk about, in the lodge, later that night.

When you see a patch of honeysuckle, why don't you run up behind your friend and push them off the path and into them? Your friend won't be expecting it. It'll surprise the Hell out of them. But honeysuckle patches are soft and they won't really get hurt and it's not like you're tossing them off a cliff or something. Once they're down there, teach them how to get the honey out of the honeysuckle flower and eat a few together. Every journey should have a few tricks played between friends.

After a time you'll probably reach the swimming hole and the picnic area and the cave entrance and the campfire and maybe you'll find other friends there too. People you like, who entered the forest right around the same time that you did, took their own paths and ended up at roughly the same destination that you did. And how nice is that? Seeing absent friends after they've had an adventure. Show them the cool stuff that you and your friend have carried there. And look at what your reunited friends brought with them. And if they can combine and be used together, do that. Because swimming and picnicing and making music is always better with more friends around.

And one more thing, One final tip for the fully well rounded human being, do the things that you set out to do. Swim. Eat. Explore the Cave. Play Music. Play Music with your food. Or explore an underwater cave. But actually treat yourself to the things that you've worked so hard and walked so far to do together. I promise you that these experiences will all be sweet, made that much better by the work that you've put into getting them. And that's one of the biggest secrets of this whole experience, remembering to give yourself the simple things that you've already promised to yourself. That's key to having a good hike, a full life and good scene.

Oh, and if this sounds hard and like a lot of walking and that it's not easy, it is. It's not easy. Sometimes it's ridiculously fucking hard. But I've often heard it said that challenges overcome are more satisfying that easy tasks undertaken. It's the difficulty of doing this thing, that helps to make it worth doing. So, know that it might be hard. But that's okay, too. Few things in this forest are insurmountable.
And it takes some training to travel safely through the forest. And you SHOULD listen to the advice of more experiences hikers. They know what they're talking about.

Usually.

Sometimes they're full of shit, too.

You get to decide for yourself, what's useful and what's the shit.

You can also be born with naturally strong leg muscles that make hiking easier for you. But that's not all there is to a hike. I've seen some very strong hikers, who never really got anywhere, because they didn't think TO go anywhere. And muscles can be built over time.

Also, it's a pretty big forest and there's room for everybody to hike in it. If you're new to the forest, don't go so far into it and you'll be fine. And don't beat yourself up about not going in deeper. Each time you go it, you'll get a little bit farther in. And it's a big relief to look around one day and see that there are other hikers who are newer to it than you are. And they're more afraid to enter it, than you are. If you have any tips for them, pass them along. That's generally how this thing works.

Happy Travels,
Mr.B

After reading the thing that I hammered out last night, I am retitling this to be my "Winnie The Pooh" Improv Analogy. It just seems to be applicable, what with all the talk of forestry and singing toadstools and the like.

I don't know how useful this would actually be to anyone else. To me, I re-read it and see that each paragraph offers a direct corollary to an improv misstep that often waylays a good scene. And the analogy that a good improv scene is like a walk in the forest seems clear enough to me, too.

I don't know. Maybe it's just interesting to me. Either way, you've read it now. You can't UN-read it!

Cheers,
Mr.B